


i have died everyday (waiting for you)

by katthe_loser



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:09:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katthe_loser/pseuds/katthe_loser
Summary: William Swan didn’t expect his move to the gloomy town of Forks to change his life, but he doesn’t know if it was for better, or worse.
Relationships: Alex Mercer/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Julie Molina/Luke Patterson, Reggie Peters & Carrie Wilson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi! I’m Kat and have decided to let my overwhelming obsession of both Twilight and JATP take over, thus sparking this fanfiction. I had to switch some things around to make it work, and I’m terribly sorry if you hate that I made Alex Edward and Willie Bella. It’s really just how I felt comfortable writing. I hope you enjoy, and none of this would be done without my mutuals on Tumblr and @emmettsmantiddies! Thanks guys.
> 
> ALSO, THIS FANFIC WILL BE IN WILLIES POV. There will not be any POV changes.

I’d never given much thought to how I would die—though these past months had given me reason enough—but even if I had, I would never had imagined it like this. 

I stared across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looked palatably back at me. At least it was a good way to go, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, maybe? That had to count for something.

I knew that if I’d never gone to Forks, I wouldn’t be about to die now. But as terrified as I was, I couldn’t bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream, a dream so far from your exceptions, it’s not reasonable to greave once it ends. The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me.

_January 17, 2005_

My mom drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. Although it was January everywhere else, it was seventy-five degrees in Los Angeles. I had on my favorite t-shirt—the My Chemical Romance ones with the Angel sprouting out of the roses that Mom got me three Christmases ago. It didn’t quite fit anymore, but that didn’t matter. I wouldn’t be needing t-shirts anytime soon.   
  
In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of grey clouds. It rains in this unknown and unimportant town more than anywhere else in the United States of America. It was from this town of gloom and storm that my mom escaped with me when I was barely a few months old. It was in this town that I was forced to spend 1-2 months at every summer until I reached fourteen. That year I finally started to make ultimatums ; these past few summers my dad, Richard, vacationed with me in Florida instead. 

  
And yet somehow, I now found myself exiled to Forks for the rest of my high school education. A year and a half. Eighteen months in this gloomy and inclement town. It sounded like a prison sentence. Eighteen months, for a “crime” I didn’t commit. The slam of the car door when I slammed it made a noise like the _dang_ of the iron bars locking me into place.

  
Fine, maybe I’m being a _tiny_ bit dramatic, I have an overactive imagination, as my mom was fond of telling me. It was my choice to move here, self-imposed exile.

Didn’t make it easier.

I loved Los Angeles. I loved the sun and the skateparks and the big, crowded city. And I loved living with my mom, it was where I was needed.

“You don’t have to do this,” my mom said to me—the last of over a hundred times—just before I got into the TSA post.

My mom loves to claim that we look so much alike that I could use her for a shaving mirror. It’s not true, though I don’t look much like my dad at all. Her chin is pointy and her eyes are buggy, though we do have the exact same nose. On her it’s childlike, which makes her look more like my sister than my mother. We get that all the time, and though she denies it, she absolutely adores it. 

Staring at those wide, worried eyes, I felt panicked. I’d been taking care of her my whole life. I mean, there was a time when I was still in diapers, that I wasn’t in charge of the bills and paperwork and general level-headedness, but I couldn’t remember that. 

Leaving my mom to fend for herself was the right thing to do—I think. It seemed like it was, during the months I had to struggle towards this decision. It all felt kind of wrong now.

Though, she had George now, so the bills would get paid on time and there would be food in the fridge and someone to go to when she was lost. She didn’t _need_ me like she did before.   
  
“I _want_ to go,” I lied. I’ve never been a good liar, but I’d been saying that phrase so often that it almost sounded convincing now. 

“Tell Richard I said hi.”

“I will.”

“I’ll see you soon,” she promised. “You can come home whenever you like—I’ll come back as soon as you need me.”

I wanted to take her up on that offer, I wanted to drop my luggage and go back to LA, but I knew what that would cost her. 

“Don’t worry about me,” I insisted, tightening my grip on my skateboard in my hand. “It’ll be good, I’m sure. I love you, Mom.”

She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I walked through the detectors, handing my skateboard to the officer for a second, and she was gone.   
  


It’s a near three-hour flight from LA to Seattle, and then another hour in a smaller plane up to Port Angeles, and an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying had never bothered me, the hour car ride with Richard, though, I was worried about.

I’d never really been close to Richard, but he seemed pleased that I was moving in with him for the first time. He’s already gotten me registered for high school, and was going to help me buy a car.

But it would be awkward. I was more extroverted then he was, a necessity for living with my mother. But asides from that, there wasn’t much to say. I hadn’t kept how I felt about Forks a secret, how I loathed its existence and how it had no skateparks near it. Skating kept me sane, it kept me relaxed and distracted me from the dread of keeping track of the bills. And though Richard paid his own bills, I still needed to skate.   
  
When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining, something I’d have to get used to. I’d said my goodbyes to the sun.

Richard was waiting for me with the cruiser. This was what I was expecting. Richard was the good Chief Swan to the people of Forks. My primary motivation behind buying a car, despite my serious lack of funds, was that I hated driving around town in a car with blue and red lights on top. I’d rather skate home in the rain.   
  
I stumbled off the plane (like an idiot) into Richards soft, awkward, one-armed hug. 

“It’s nice to see you, Willie.” He said as he steadied me. He patted my shoulder, embarrassed, and stepped back. 

“You haven’t changed much. How’s Reina?” 

“Mom’s good. It’s nice to see you too, Dad”. I wasn’t supposed to call him Richard to his face. My mom said it’s “disrespectful” which I suppose makes sense but I didn’t feel close enough to him to call him “dad”. The word felt like vomit coming out of my mouth.

“You really feel okay about leaving her?”

We both understood that this question wasn’t about my own personal happiness. It was about whether I was shirking my responsibility to look after her. This was the reason Richard’d never fought for custody over me ; he knew mom needed me. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“Fair enough.”

I only had 2 big duffel bags + my skateboard. Most of my LA clothes didn’t fit the climate here in Forks. My mom and I had pooled our resources to get supplements for my winter wardrobe, but it wasn’t much. I could handle both of them and my skateboard, but Richard insisted on taking one.   
  
It threw my balance off a little and my foot caught on the lip of the exit door and the bag swung out of my hand, onto the pavement floor. I guess I didn’t close the zipper all the way because out came my winter wardrobe. I sighed, my luck had already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV : you’re me rereading twilight and freaking out over the roles and if you should rewrite but also liking how you have written it already

“I found a good car for you, really cheap”, Richard announced, handing me my raincoat from the ground. 

“What kind of car?” I asked, suspicious of the way he said that it was a “good car for _you_ ” rather than just “good car”.

“It’s a truck, a Chevy.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Do you remember Mary Williams? She lives closer down to the high school.”

“Nope.”

“She and her husband used to go fishing with us during the summer,” Richard prompted.

That would explain why I didn’t remember her. I blocked out nearly everything from my time in Forks, It’s all been replaced with (very important) skateboarding knowledge. 

“She’s in a wheelchair now,” Richard continued as I zipped up my suitcase.

“Well, what year is it?” I could see that from the change in his expression that this was the question he was hoping I wouldn’t ask. 

“Mary’s had a lot of work done on the engine—it’s really only a few years old.”

Richard clearly didn’t know me that well to think I’d give up already. 

“When did she buy it?” I asked as Richard and I started walking to his cruiser.

“I think she bought it in 1984.”

“Did she buy it new?”

“No, I think it was new in the early sixties,” He paused and then went on once he saw that I was unamused, “or late fifties at the earliest.” 

“Ric-Dad, I really don’t know anything about cars. I’d be safer skating to school.” I complained, stuffing my luggage and skateboard into the back of the cruiser. 

“Really, Willie, the thing runs great. They don’t build them like they used to.”

Him calling my new truck “the thing” didn’t help his case, though it had possibilities—as a nickname, at the very least. 

“How cheap is cheap?” After all, that part was the deal killer. 

“Well, I already bought it as a homecoming gift for you.”

Richard gave me a hopeful glance as we both sat down in the cruiser. 

Free car, it was sweet, but I was planning on getting myself a car.

“You really didn’t have to do that, I was going to buy myself a car.” I sighed as Richard started the car.

“I don’t mind. I want you to be as happy as possible here.” He looked ahead at the road as he said this. Richard had never been comfortable with expressing his feelings. Another thing that we differ from. So I was looking at him as I responded. 

“That’s amazing, Dad. I really appreciate that.” 

“Well, now, you’re welcome,” He mumbled, embarrassed by my thanked. 

The car ride was nothing interesting, I would talk about the weather, which was rain, and he would give a short answer back. I looked out the windows, maybe for Forks it would be beautiful. Everything was green : the trees covered in moss, both the trunks and the branches, the ground blanketed with ferns. God, even the air was green by the time it filtered down through the leaves. 

It was too green—an alien planet. 

-

-

-

-

-

Eventually we made it to Richards. He still lived in the house he purchased with my mother ; a small two-bedroom house. They bought it in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had—the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of me was my new—well, new to me—truck. It was a faded red color, with big, curvy fenders and a rounded cab. Also, it looked like if the wind pushed too hard against it that it would fall into thousands of pieces. 

And I liked it. I’ve never really been a car guy, but I assume that it would get me from one place to the other quicker then my skateboard. Though, it was one of those iron monsters that never got damaged—the kind you see at an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by pieces of the car it just destroyed. 

“Thanks, Dad. It’s awesome.” I said, smiling from ear to ear. The big, old, rusty truck would keep me from skateboarding in the rain, or accept a ride in the cruiser, which was obviously worse case scenario. 

“I’m glad you like it.” Richard said gruffly, embarrassed again. 

It only took one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar, it had been mine since I was born. The wooden floor, the light yellow walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellow and white checked curtains around the windows—these were all apart of my childhood. The only changes I saw were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew older. The desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modern stapled alone the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was one of the many requirements that my mother had so we could stay in touch. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Richard, but that didn’t bother me much. I’ve shared with my mom before, and that was definitely worse. She had a lot more stuff, and she resisted my attempts to help her organize any of it. 

Richard doesn’t hover like my mother did, he left me alone to get unpacked and streamed in, which would’ve been totally impossible at my moms. It felt strange to be alone, on one hand I liked the feeling of being free, but on the other I felt uncomfortable, staring out the windows and letting my thoughts get dark. 

Forks High School had just three hundred and fifty-seven—now fifty-eight—students. There were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All these kids had grown up together—their grandparents had been toddlers together. I felt out of place here. 

Maybe if I had been one of the cool kids, I could make it work for me. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have friends at my old school, but I was no where near a popular, homecoming king. I wasn’t the football star, not the class president or the bad boy on the motorcycle. I was the kid who _looked_ like he should be the “bad boy on the motorcycle” with my long hair, but instead had been forbidden from riding a motorcycle since my uncle had gotten in an accident a couple years ago.

Unlike the other guys, I didn’t have much time for hobbies. I had skateboarding but that was only once I was done with taking care of a clogged drain to snake, a weeks groceries to shop for and a checkbook to balance. Somehow, I was still energetic enough to have a full conversation about new bands that were gaining popularity. My mom didn’t understand that, but neither did I. I guess no one really understood me, not even myself. Sometimes I wondered if I had been seeing things different then everyone else. Like, maybe what I saw as green was what everyone else saw as red. Maybe I smelled vinegar when they smelled coconut. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain, which would explain a _lot._

But the cause didn’t matter, all that mattered was the effect. And tomorrow would just be the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am very tired and questioning if I wrote this right. I’ll try and update every other day, but I don’t know. Thanks for reading and be sure to put a kudos ~ Kat


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyy, sorry for not updating in a bit. I’ll really just be updating when I feel up to it.

I didn’t sleep well that night, even after I got my brain to shut up. The constant  whooshing  of the wind and rain wouldn’t fade into the background. I pulled the old quilt over my head, and later added my pillow, too. I couldn’t fall asleep until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a light drizzle. 

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning. You could never see the sky here, which fit into the prison cage that I had imagined. 

Breakfast with Richard was quiet. I had tried to carry a conversation on a skateboarding trick that I had been trying to master for a few months, the heelflip, but he shrugged it off and wished me best at Forks High before taking off to the police station.

After he left, I stared at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and stared at the familiar kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing had changed. My mom had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago to try and bring some sunshine into the house.

Over the small fireplace in the adjoining, microscopic family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding photo of Richard and my mom in Las Vegas (My mom insisted on their wedding being there because it would be “iconic”). Then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school photos up to this year. They were embarrassing to look at—my knocked out teeth from failed skateboarding attempts, the bad haircut attempts, the braces years of trying to fix my teeth I had ruined myself, the acne that had finally cleared up.

I would have to see what I would have to do to get Richard to take them down and keep them hidden in a closet somewhere. It was imposible, being in this house, knowing Richard had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable. 

I didn’t want to be too early to school, but I couldn’t stay in this house anymore. I put on my jacket—thick, non-breathing plastic, like a biohazard suit—and headed out in the rain.

It was still drizzling, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eave by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots sounded weird. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Richard had probably cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, which was a surprise, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling up at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw.   


The school wasn’t hard to find ; like most things in this town, it was just off the highway. It wasn’t obvious at first that it was a school ; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, clued me in. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon -covered bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn’t see it’s size at first.

I parked by the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading FRONT OFFICE. No one else was parked there, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot.   


Inside it was brightly lit, and warmer than I had hoped. The office walls were covered in posters that said things like ; “This Is A No Bullying Zone”, “Suicide Is Never The Answer” and then a phone number, which I assumed was for either the school counselor’s or a suicide prevention program. The room was small ; there was a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange decked commercial carpet, a big clock ticking loudly, and notices and awards cluttering the walls along with the posters. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn’t enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to the front. There were three desks behind the counter ; a round balding man in glasses sat at one. He was wearing a t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed for the weather. 

The balding man looked up. “Can I help you?” 

“I’m Willie Swan,” I informed him, and saw the quick recognition in his eyes. It was expected, The Chief’s son had come back home.   


“Of course,” He said. He dug through a leaning stack of papers on his desk till he found the ones he was looking for. “I have your schedule right here, William, and a map of the school.” He brought several sheets to the counter to show me.

“It’s Willie, please.”   


“Oh, sure, Willie.”

He went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to return at the end of the day. He smiled at me and hoped, like Richard, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back before leaving the room.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its so short. I’ll update again tomorrow or the day after to make up for it. Also, please leave a kudos or a comment. Thanks - Kat.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for it being so short. Keep in mind, I wrote this chapter based off the book and at 1 am. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter and leave helpful tips in the comments. Thanks ~ Kat


End file.
